


Reinstatement by Madison

by sgamadison



Series: The Cabin Series [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had begun to build a life here now.  (Sequel to Exile--would make more sense if you read that first).  Also, additional snide commentary about TPTB as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reinstatement by Madison

Reinstatement by [Madison](viewuser.php?uid=1593) [NC-17]  
**Summary:** He had begun to build a life here now. (Sequel to Exile--would make more sense if you read that first). Also, additional snide commentary about TPTB as well.

**Categories:** [Slash Pairings](browse.php?type=categories&id=3) &gt; [McKay/Sheppard](browse.php?type=categories&id=11)  
**Characters:** [Carson Beckett](browse.php?type=characters&charid=3), [Jennifer Keller](browse.php?type=characters&charid=19), [John Sheppard](browse.php?type=characters&charid=7), [Radek Zelenka](browse.php?type=characters&charid=11), [Rodney McKay](browse.php?type=characters&charid=12), [Ronon Dex](browse.php?type=characters&charid=13), [Samantha Carter](browse.php?type=characters&charid=14), [Teyla Emmagan](browse.php?type=characters&charid=17)  
**Genres:** [Action/Adventure](browse.php?type=class&type_id=1&classid=2), [Angst](browse.php?type=class&type_id=1&classid=3), [Established Relationship](browse.php?type=class&type_id=1&classid=9), [Humour](browse.php?type=class&type_id=1&classid=12), [Series](browse.php?type=class&type_id=1&classid=19)  
**Warnings:** [Adult themes](browse.php?type=class&type_id=2&classid=23)  
**Chapters:** 1 [[Table of Contents](viewstory.php?sid=14255&index=1)]  
**Series:** [The Cabin Series](viewseries.php?seriesid=205)

Word count: 5165; Completed: Yes  
[](viewstory.php?action=printable&sid=14255&textsize=0&chapter=1)  
[-](viewstory.php?sid=14255&chapter=1&textsize=-1) **Text Size** [+](viewstory.php?sid=14255&chapter=1&textsize=1)

 

> **Story Notes:**  
> Dedicated to the_cephalopod for going above and beyond the call fo duty by giving a quick and dirty beta job *from the airport*, no less, while waiting on a delayed flight. And because this is a sequel to her birthday fic Exile.

 

* * *

>   
> Rodney leaned back in his desk chair, making it creak a little. He rolled his neck and winced at the stiffness he felt there. He glanced at his watch—he'd been sitting at the computer too long and he _knew_ better. With the nearest chiropractor over a hundred miles away, he'd learned that he needed to take more breaks, not spend so many hours at a stretch at the keyboard.
> 
> He thought slyly of the mid-morning break he'd taken while waiting for his latest analysis to finish running. He now had a neat cache of some forty-odd, perfectly formed snowballs just waiting for the right moment to be deployed. He was _so_ gonna nail John's ass.
> 
> It had started out as merely a foray into the cold to collect more firewood. Fortunately there was plenty cut and stacked outside, due to the fact that John actually _liked_ chopping firewood. Rodney shook his head at the insensibility of that, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed watching John swing the axe down on the logs, neatly splitting them into manageable pieces, and stacking them under the overhang until there was no danger of running out any time soon. John would wear his old red-checked flannel over one of his ubiquitous black tee shirts, stripping off the outer shirt later as he got into the rhythm of his work. The easy grace of his movements was a pure joy to behold and then there was always the subsequent complaining of sore muscles, necessitating a nice soak in the hot tub for both of them...
> 
> Memories of what usually happened next momentarily distracted Rodney and he tried to remember his original train of thought. Ah, yes, going for firewood. He had just intended to make a quick dash down the end of the porch to grab some more wood when the devious plan had made itself known and he'd then spent the better part of a hour instead making his weapons of choice for a rematch when John would least expect it. Rodney rubbed his hands together with glee as he contemplated the complete advantage he would have when he launched his ambush.
> 
> The email notice pinged at him and he leaned forward, opening the latest missive from Radek. The subsequent nonsense contained within had him furiously typing a response, fingers flying over the keyboard, including graphs and hyperlinks to his own articles to support his position and show Radek just how idiotic he was being over this one. "No," he typed. "No, no, no. Let me show you the error of your ways..."
> 
> When he was done and had hit 'send' with a flourish, he got up to pour himself another cup of coffee. He was startled to find that the pot was empty but then remembered that John had poured half the pot into a thermos before he'd left the cabin that morning and Rodney had forgotten to make more. Grousing just a little, he scooped more coffee into the filter and started the next cycle going. He paused to check on the pot of soup on the stove, remembering to use a potholder to lift the aluminum lid of the stock pot and taking a deep, appreciative whiff of the simmering chicken soup within before replacing the lid and turning down the heat. From somewhere in the other room, John's cell phone beeped again; Rodney recognizing that this had to be the second or third time it had gone off this morning. He was tempted to go find it and just turn it off. He checked his watch again. John should be back any time now for lunch.
> 
> He shivered just a little as he padded in sock feet over to the stack of firewood and tossed another log on the fire before settling down on the couch. He and John had argued about getting a wood stove. Rodney maintained it was a necessity and John didn't want the fireplace blocked off. Rodney knew it was just a matter of time before John gave in though, especially since there was a second fireplace in the bed room they shared. He would just have to use all his considerable powers of persuasion.
> 
> He grinned when he thought of the latest tactics he'd chosen. In terms of being cold, mornings were the worst in the cabin, the fires having died down overnight. Rodney was always loathe to get up in the mornings—he'd never been much of a morning person to begin with, but getting up in a cold room when John's body was warm under the covers beside him...yeah, there was no real reason to get up as far as he was concerned. Even when the early morning sun drove through the blinds, insisting that he get up, Rodney would rather lie in bed and revel in the fact that John was actually there. John didn't like being cold any more than Rodney did, so they took turns as to who would get up first and get the fires going. John would determinedly get up and set about the task, usually starting the coffee maker as well, before dashing back to the bed and diving under the covers, forcing feet and hands, now more akin to blocks of ice than human appendages, against Rodney's body and laughing when Rodney complained.
> 
> It was one of the best parts of the day.
> 
> Today it had been Rodney's turn to get up first, but instead of resolutely forcing himself to leave his warm bed, he had instead ducked his head under the covers and worked his way down until he could reach across John's hips and turn him over on his back. John had gone over easily, stretching out a leg in his sleep and pushing it up against Rodney. He had smiled as he dropped his hand in between John's legs, smoothing his palm up John's thigh. John's knee had bumped up against Rodney's chest as his thighs parted at Rodney's touch.
> 
> Rodney had grinned what John liked to call his Evil Grinch Grin, but he couldn't help it. John was putty in his hands. Bringing his mouth down to kiss the strong muscles in John's thigh, Rodney had stroked the inside of John's leg with his hand, bringing his knuckles up to brush John's balls and being rewarded with the little intake of breath and the small uplift of John's pelvis. Rodney had taken his time; slowly working his way closer to John's groin, lipping and mouthing his flesh even as he stroked up and down the inside of John's leg. By the time he had nosed the crease where John's thigh met his pelvis, John was fully hard and his cock was straining upwards.
> 
> Rodney loved giving John a morning blowjob. He loved the sleepy, compliant way John's body responded to him until every nerve ending was fully awake and begging for more—more of Rodney's touches, more of Rodney's mouth on his skin. He loved the musky scent John gave off as he became aroused and the way a light sweat would suddenly break out over his skin. Rodney was addicted to the feel of John's cock in his mouth, the way it would thicken and lengthen as if by magic, loved the way the smooth head seemed perfectly made for his mouth. He'd become dependent on the little electric thrill that would run through him when John's hand would come down lightly on his head, fingers running through his hair, gently encouraging him for more. It hadn't started out that way. When the two of them first got together, Rodney was no stranger to blowjobs, even though his male partners had been few and far between. In fact, he had sort of prided himself on his skill as the master blowjob giver. But that was before he'd been met with the sheer...there was only one word that would do..._perfection_ of John's cock. Thicker than expected judging from John's build, standing up straight as an arrow and nearly dark purple when aroused, John's balls hanging in perfect symmetry beneath it. It was enough to give a guy a moment of performance anxiety. It had taken Rodney a while to get over it, to realize that his mouth on John's cock worked as well as it ever did, even if he couldn't quite take in as much as he was accustomed to doing. John seemed as appreciative as the next guy, if not more so, and Rodney's addiction had grown.
> 
> This morning had been no different, only buried under the covers, Rodney had been unable to enjoy the part he liked best—the way John would flutter his eyes closed as Rodney worked his way up and down John's shaft and the way John would take his lower lip between his teeth, intermittently lolling his head to the side, as though Rodney's actions were bringing him unbearable pleasure. Frustrated at not being able to see, and becoming overwhelmed at the heat that was suddenly being generated between them, Rodney had thrown back the covers with a huff and gotten out of bed.
> 
> "Hey," John had protested, opening his eyes.
> 
> It had been tempting; John looked so utterly debauched lying there, messy bed head and long, lean muscles, his cock red and hard, slick with saliva and precome. Rodney, however, had held firm.
> 
> "Hold that thought," he'd said, scurrying out of bed to poke the ashes in the fireplace back into life, stamping his feet up and down as he added some more kindling and then making a pleased little hum when the flames caught. He added a decent sized log and turned to scuttle back to the bed.
> 
> John was palming his cock with a decidedly firm stroke when Rodney returned.
> 
> "Hey," Rodney had protested as he crawled back beside John, reaching for the covers. "What do you think you're doing?"
> 
> "Holding that thought," John had drawled. That one-eyebrow lift shouldn't look so good on anyone; it was a freaking crime.
> 
> "Well, that's mine," Rodney had complained, closing his hand over John's and biting his own lip when John arched up ever so slightly into their combined touch. "And think very carefully before you speak," Rodney had added when John had opened his mouth, "because if the next words out of your mouth are 'finders; keepers', well then..."
> 
> John had laughed instead and reached up to kiss Rodney, a long, slow, lush meeting of tongues and lips.
> 
> "Why'd you leave in the first place?" John had asked when Rodney broke off the kiss and moved back down to his place at John's hip, batting away John's hands.
> 
> "I got hot under the covers." He had taken John's length in his mouth then, moving up and down with his hand as a guide, pausing to flutter his tongue over the tip and then swallow him down again, applying suction as he went. He worked like this for several long moments before pulling off to say, "And I can't watch you. I like to see your face when you come." He had barely closed his mouth around John again when he'd felt the little tremors that signaled the coming orgasm and he had smiled around John's pulsing cock as his mouth filled with come.
> 
> Lifting his head off John's softening cock, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he'd shivered in the coolness of the room, pulling the covers across them as he'd crawled up John's body to lie beside him. "You know," he'd whispered into John's oddly pointed ear, "if we had a wood stove, I wouldn't have to hide under the covers to blow you."
> 
> "You are a bad man," John had said, before yawning sleepily. "I'll think about it."
> 
> Which in Johnspeak, was practically a 'yes'.
> 
> Rodney drowsed on the couch, a warm, fuzzy blanket pulled partway across his shoulders, a smile on his face as Puffin, the little black and white kitten he'd adopted recently, appeared and curled up beside him, pushing her paws into the side of his leg and purring loudly before settling down sleepily with a flick of her tail. John, naturally, refused to call her anything other than The Puffball. Rodney scratched her head, causing her to roll it upwards into his touch, purring even louder and Rodney was reminded of John again. He contemplated what it meant to have John here now. In many ways, nothing had changed. They still occasionally got mad with each other; they still played video games and watched movies. But a retired John was a much more relaxed person. He was also a more affectionate person, and Rodney had realized that much of John's reluctance to touch in the past was not only due to DADT, but also because the soldier in John was always on duty. He'd gotten better with that over the years, as expedition members and teammates had become family as well, but nothing Rodney had experienced in the past prepared him for the John he had now—the one that now routinely draped himself around Rodney in the kitchen, making suggestions over his shoulder as Rodney tried to cook. Or the John who would simply lift his head up from his book to accept a kiss in passing or would pull Rodney into a laughing embrace for no apparent reason. Rodney didn't always know what to make of this John, and was afraid that he might one day disappear.
> 
> The thought made him frown at his watch again. John was late. Rodney wasn't exactly worried; they didn't stick to any sort of hard and fast schedule here in the Canadian wilderness, but if John said he'd be home by lunch then he usually was pretty close to being on time. John would probably fuss, but Rodney was seriously considering calling him on the purloined hand radios that John had managed to bring with him. They had a radius of five miles and though they were really meant for emergency usage, Rodney felt that being almost an hour and a half late in below freezing temperatures qualified. He'd just stood up, letting the blanket fall to the couch, when a blinding flare of light flashed through the room and two marines in BDU's stood in front of him. Puffin flattened, hissed and hit the floor running.
> 
> Rodney leaped and clutched his chest. "Holy crap!" he yelped and then turned furiously on the marines. "Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack? What the hell do you want? Haven't you people ever heard of _knocking_? Or I don't know, maybe using the phone? We _do_ have phones here, you know."
> 
> The two marines exchanged a look. The one obviously in charge, a young black man who reminded Rodney suddenly of Ford, said politely, "Our apologies, Dr. McKay. We did attempt to contact you via phone, but no one was answering."
> 
> Rodney shot a guilty glance over at the mobile phone in its cradle; the 'messages' light blinking like a Christmas tree, the sound turned off. He remembered belatedly the way John's phone had been going off all morning as well. He took refuge in sarcasm. "We've been busy here. Mind telling me what's so all-fired important that you had to have the _Daedalus_ beam down the few, the proud, the marines into to my living room?"
> 
> "We were actually looking for Colonel Sheppard, sir." Both marines managed to look uncomfortable.
> 
> "Well he's not here," Rodney snapped, unhappy at the thought that the military wanted John, most likely to take him away. 'Retired' didn't always mean retired in the US military, as Rodney well knew. It suddenly occurred to him that if he 'inadvertently' outed John, then he would be safe from most repercussions (well, aside from probably losing benefits and pension) as well as reinstatement. It only took him a second longer to realize there was no way in hell he could do that to John (particularly if he had any hopes of ever having sex with him again) and his anger deflated. "He went out cross-country skiing this morning and he's not back yet."
> 
> "We'll wait, sir." The marines took up a position of parade rest.
> 
> "Oh for heaven's sake," Rodney grumbled, heading for the desk drawer and pulling out the radio. "He's overdue. I was just getting ready to radio him."
> 
> "Those wouldn't by any chance be military issue radios, sir?" The young lieutenant said mildly as Rodney pressed the switch to speak into the unit.
> 
> "Amazing what you can pick up at a military surplus store these days," Rodney smirked at the marine. "Or even online." Rodney was willing to bet John had some C-4 stashed somewhere in the cabin. "Sheppard, are you there?" Rodney realized that he'd automatically reverted to referring to John as he had on missions and he fought to keep the wince off his face. Radio static greeted him. "John? Do you copy?" Worry crept into his voice.
> 
> "The Colonel's not responding?" The soldier touched his earpiece and lifted his eyes slightly towards the ceiling as he spoke. "_Daedalus_. This is Lieutenant Cooper. Colonel Sheppard went out this morning on skis and is overdue for his return." He paused a moment, and then nodded. "Roger that." He turned his head to face Rodney again.
> 
> "Colonel Carter is going to locate him through his transponder and have him beamed back here."
> 
> Rodney was trying to process several things at once, like why Sam was on the _Daedalus_ and what was so urgent that they couldn't just wait for John to show up but he said the thing that weighed uppermost on his mind. "The Colonel's going to be really pissed if you just summarily yank him off the nearest mountainside and plop him down in the living room without so much as a by your leave. If you're hoping to persuade him to help you with something, you've pretty much lost the argument right there."
> 
> The two men exchanged a worried glance and then the lieutenant touched his ear piece and opened his mouth to speak but it was too late. In a flashing beam of light, John appeared in the living room.
> 
> In a snow-encrusted heap on the floor.
> 
> Every inch of him was covered in snow. Embedded in the snow itself were pieces of greenery, like odd decorations. His hair stood up in crystalline spikes, snow stood out against his skin in sharp contrast to his day-old beard and as Rodney and the marines stood with their mouths agape in speechlessness, John lifted a heavily powdered glove to his face and pulled off the ski goggles, revealing several bloody looking scrapes along his cheekbones. Rodney quickly took in the fact that John was missing a ski and the pole strapped to his right wrist was broken in two.
> 
> "Whoa," John said, sitting up stiffly. "That was incredibly good timing."
> 
> "Oh. My. God." Rodney breathed heavily through his nose, for once not running the words together in a single phrase. "What the hell happened to you?"
> 
> John gave a little shrug, not meeting Rodney's eye but instead starting to brush the snow off the sleeve of his arm, causing it to drop on the floor where it began to melt in little pools. "Um, there might have been a small avalanche."
> 
> "An _avalanche_?" Rodney heard his voice rise alarmingly in pitch but he was powerless to stop it.
> 
> "A small one, McKay." John suddenly looked up and then quirked an eyebrow at the marines. "Want to introduce our guests?"
> 
> Rodney opened and shut his mouth but no sound came out.
> 
> "Lieutenant Cooper and Sergeant Blakely from the _Daedalus_, sir." Both marines snapped to attention and saluted, which made John sigh.
> 
> "Relax, guys. I'm retired." John pulled in his legs closer to his body and unclipped the bindings to the remaining ski, pushing it aside before getting to his feet with a small grunt.
> 
> "Colonel Sheppard, sir," the young lieutenant tried unsuccessfully to hide a somewhat pained expression on his face, "your presence is requested back at the SGC."
> 
> "No," John said pleasantly, unzipping the top of the ski suit and shrugging out of it to reveal the ratty cream cable knit sweater he liked so much. "Got anything hot to drink, Rodney?"
> 
> Rodney wanted to move, but he was transfixed, rooted to the spot until he'd heard what the marines had come all this way to say.
> 
> "Sir," Cooper said a little desperately, "it is a matter of great importance..."
> 
> "Are you perhaps hard of hearing, lieutenant?" John said in that silky voice that Rodney knew oh so well. A part of him wanted to scream at the young marine that he was treading on thin ice but another part of him wanted to see the inevitable crash and burn.
> 
> Cooper at least had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Colonel. Please. My orders are to bring you back with me aboard the _Daedalus_ so that you can then be transported to the SGC."
> 
> "Sam's on board," Rodney suddenly heard himself saying and then wanted to smack himself in the forehead.
> 
> John raised an eyebrow in his direction and then turned back towards the marine, ski suit open to the waist and hanging off his frame. He held out a hand. "Let me have your radio. No, not that one," he corrected when the lieutenant reached for his earpiece, "the hand unit."
> 
> Taking the proffered radio, John depressed the switch. "_Daedalus_, this is Colonel Sheppard. Please put me through to Colonel Carter."
> 
> "John." Carter's voice was warm with pleasure when it came over the open channel. "Congratulations on your promotion. I hear you're a full bird Colonel now. It was well-deserved."
> 
> "Promoted and then retired, Sam," John drawled, hinting a subtext Rodney could not begin to comprehend. "Mind telling me what's up?"
> 
> There was a barely audible sigh. "Trust me on this one, John. The SGC could really use your expertise in this area. I'd rather not discuss it on an open channel, however. Come aboard the _Daedalus_ and I can fill you in on all the details."
> 
> "No thank you, Colonel," John said in that too-pleasant voice again. "Retired, remember?"
> 
> "John..." Rodney started, only to be silenced with a glare.
> 
> "Bring McKay along," Sam's voice radiated amusement. "I'm sure you'll want him with you on this...once you hear the details that is."
> 
> "That's all very easy for you to say, Sam," Rodney snapped, "but not so simple in application. I can't just pop off without warning here. I have projects going; the cabin would have to be shut down for however long we would be gone. I have a _life_ here."
> 
> "He has a _cat_," John added, his own voice rich with amusement as well.
> 
> "Fine." Rodney heard the capitulation in Sam's voice before she stated it. "You guys win. You always _did_," she added in a quiet grumble before continuing. "I didn't want to discuss this openly like this, but I guess it's only fair that you know what you're up against."
> 
> Rodney's brain supplied at least six worst case scenarios before Sam finally spilled the facts of the matter and it occurred to him he might be slipping since he could only come up with six. Domesticity with Sheppard was rotting his brain.
> 
> "Go on," Rodney said impatiently, folding his arms across his chest, even though Sam could not see him. "We're all ears. Some more so than others."
> 
> John shot him a particularly _evil_ look that promised retribution when least expected.
> 
> Sam sighed again. "There's been a problem with the new expedition."
> 
> "Oh _really_?" Rodney could barely keep the glee out of his voice.
> 
> "Yes, really, McKay," Sam's eye roll could be heard over the airwaves. She hesitated and then bravely plunged on. "It would seem that the Ancient ship had a pre-determined program of its own. Once the exploration team, admittedly a group of somewhat inexperienced personnel, were all on board, the ship just sort of...left."
> 
> "It left?" Rodney was back to the high pitched sound of disbelief again.
> 
> "Let me get this straight," John drawled and perhaps only Rodney could really hear the amusement this time, and only because he knew to look for it. "The ship _ran away with them_?"
> 
> One of the marines coughed suddenly.
> 
> "Oh this is _beautiful_," Rodney chortled.
> 
> "Um, what exactly do you propose that _I_ do?" John's incredulity here was not hidden.
> 
> "Stand on the sidelines and shout 'there's no place like home'?" Rodney offered. "Suggest they go to warp and try to traverse the seventy-odd light year difference back to the alpha quadrant? Or, oh, oh, I know, have them try to create a stable wormhole to travel through so they can return home before they're all too old to be really, totally interesting anymore?"
> 
> John was trying very hard not to laugh now and Rodney was tempted to keep on going until John began to bray like a donkey.
> 
> "The SGC," Sam said in a tone that suggested she was grinding her teeth slightly, "would like you to assemble a team, John, and return to the Pegasus galaxy to begin searching for the renegade ship. You will, of course, be supplied with a ship of your own. It won't be the same class as the _Daedalus_, of course, more along the lines of an exploration vessel..."
> 
> "A ship," John breathed and Rodney knew a sinking feeling. John would go; he couldn't help it. "I get to assemble a team? Anyone I want?" John's voice was suddenly sharp.
> 
> "Anyone who wants to go with you," Sam qualified.
> 
> "We'll need Radek," Rodney said suddenly, "and Miko, if she's available."
> 
> John threw a thousand watt smile in his direction and Rodney felt that it would be alright if they—if _he_...had to give up everything here to make John smile like that.
> 
> "And we'll need a doctor," Rodney said, frowning at John and his general propensity to have things impale him in the stomach.
> 
> John's eyes suddenly narrowed into little hazel chips of ice. "You want Keller," he said, baring teeth slightly, seemingly oblivious to the soldiers watching the by-play.
> 
> "Or Carson," Rodney found himself stammering. "Really, whoever is available and _wants_ to come, like Sam said." He really didn't know why John was so squiffy about Jennifer; Rodney had gotten over his infatuation with her long ago.
> 
> "And we'll pick up Ronon and Teyla when we get there," John said, suddenly all smiles again, the sun coming out from behind storm clouds.
> 
> "We'll need some time to close up shop here, Sam," Rodney said with a sigh. "And we'll have to drop off my cat at my sister's. Hopefully no one will be allergic." Rodney didn't hold out much hope. Caleb looked like the weedy, sickly type to him.
> 
> "You've got three hours," Sam said sweetly. "Get Cooper and Blakely to help."
> 
> After sending the young marines off packing to secure the out buildings and the vehicles, John wandered into the bedroom where Rodney was coaxing Puffin out from under the bed and into a carrier.
> 
> "We can take The Puffball with us, you know," John leaned against the doorframe, ski suit and boots removed and sock feet crossed at the ankles. Rodney glanced up and then quickly away. John looked just so..._John_ and the sight of him was nearly unbearable to Rodney.
> 
> "A ship is no place for a cat," Rodney said shortly, afraid at all he was about to lose. He deftly caught the protesting black and white ball of fur and swung her into the crate, latching the door.
> 
> "Well, I don't know about that," John drawled. "Cats have been ship's mascots for centuries. They're good luck, you know. And they kill rats and mice. And anyway, Torren will need a playmate."
> 
> Rodney flicked a glance upward at John and then continued to pack silently.
> 
> "Besides," John went on as though Rodney were not rigid with unhappiness. "I give this new mission two, three months at most."
> 
> Rodney continued to stiffly throw things into a bag.
> 
> He was startled when John suddenly stepped forward and took him by the arm.
> 
> "Hey," John said with a frown. "I thought you wanted this. You know, get back to Pegasus, return to the cutting edge of science, maybe even go back to Atlantis again."
> 
> Rodney carefully pulled his arm away. "You should be more discreet. There are marines around, you know."
> 
> "Rod-ney," John protested, drawing out Rodney's name in syllables normally only heard in the Deep South. "Things don't have to change, you know. Not if we don't want them to."
> 
> Rodney wanted to believe him so very badly. Something suddenly clicked and he wheeled on John. "Wait a minute," he hissed. "Was this it? Was this your Grand Plan to get us back to Pegasus? Did you have something to do with this?"
> 
> John looked suddenly sheepish. "Well, not _directly_," he began to flounder slightly. "I mean, it wasn't like I _did_ anything. I might have inadvertently _thought_ about it though. You know; just idle thoughts about what the original programming might have been..."
> 
> "Oh, I see, inadvertent thoughts while you were actually in _contact_ with the ship during your tour, hmmmm?" Rodney said nastily, crossing his arms. "I suppose it didn't occur to you that All Things Ancient roll over and whimper for your touch, did it?"
> 
> John shrugged and his voice got quiet. "I can't help it if I think we should have gotten first crack at the ship, Rodney."
> 
> An answering fierceness welled up in Rodney. John was right; they should have gotten first crack at the new ship—it grated that the whole project instead had been turned over to some snotty nosed brats still wet behind the ears.
> 
> Before he could respond, however, John had swept him up into a crushing embrace. "The ship _ran away_ with them, Rodney," John laughed helplessly in his ear and Rodney found himself laughing as well.
> 
> "Well, obviously, "Rodney snorted, relaxing in John's arms. "We weren't there."
> 
> ~fin~


End file.
